


'cause you know all of my secrets

by NoGood_InGoodbye



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Happy Ending, Nothing explicit, brief mention of abuse, but not much details on the sad stuff, mentions of lots of ppl but only those three actually show up, quite a bit of hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoGood_InGoodbye/pseuds/NoGood_InGoodbye
Summary: The older Danvers nodded, satisfied with Kara’s answer as she finally opened the door to leave—and nearly knocked into the tiny body standing on the other side.“Lena!” Kara swooped in to save the brunette from falling, practically shoving her sister aside to catch Lena in her arms (Alex’s startled “hey!” pure background noise to Kara’s hasty movements).Or: Kara learns about love, Lena lets her take her time, and everything falls into place eventually.
Relationships: Alex Danvers & Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 46
Kudos: 453





	'cause you know all of my secrets

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Unbetaed-ish. Don't own anything at all ever. Title from Jake Scott's Like No One Does. First supercorp fic. Started out inspired by The Half Of It but isn't anything like the film. Honestly this fic haunted me way more than it deserved to.

_“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength...”  
\- Lao Tzu_

When Kara was seven, she asked her mother what love was because a little boy in her class had told her that he loved her and that they were now married.

She doesn’t really remember what she’d told him in return, only remembers the squirmy feeling in her stomach and the way her nose got twitchy. Remembers the relief she felt when their teacher called them back into the classroom.

It’s not that she didn’t like him—Kara just didn’t want to be married to him. She didn’t know all that much about love and marriage, but she knew enough to know that whatever it was, she didn’t want it with Sul-Rom.

Love didn’t make much sense to her.

She got home that day, mud sticking to the cuffs of her pants and a chocolate smear on her jacket as she tumbled into her mother’s awaiting hug. She was forced to clean up and get changed, talking a mile a minute about her day as her mother chuckled fondly and reacted just a smidge exaggeratedly as she steered her through her clean up. The only time Kara stopped to breathe was when she reached her least favorite part of the day.

“Mom?” Kara turned to face her mother, hands dropping from her previous storytelling. “What does love mean?”

Her mother’s smile had gone curious, traces of amusement curling the corners. “Love?” Kara’s tiny head bobbled at the word. “Love is how your dad and I feel about you, and how your dad and I feel about each other, and how you feel about us.”

A deep crinkle formed between the blonde’s brows, her little lips twisting in confusion. “Then why did Sul-Rom say he loves me? He said we’re married, Mom! I don’t want to be married yet!”

Lips pinching to hold back her laughter, her mother had pulled her close, smoothing her blonde curls away before explaining softly, “Love is kindness. Like when your dad brings us home flowers for no reason other than he loves us. Love is constant, which means that no matter the time or place, you love them, like your dad and I love you. Love _isn’t_ when little boys tell you you’re married—they have to ask your permission first, and you have to want to get married, too.”

So Kara asked her to write it down for her so she wouldn’t forget (and so she could show Sul-Rom that they _couldn’t_ be married).

Her mother had pulled out an old receipt in reply, signed Kara’s name in big bold letters at the very top (in English and Kryptonese), and wrote down her request.

 _Love is kindness_ , her mother wrote in cleanly blocked Kryptonese. _Love is_ _constant_.

* * *

When Kara was eleven, she was staring at a box of cereal when she asked her dad how he knew he loved her mom.

“Should I be worried?” His brow was quirked when she finally looked up to face him, and a tinge of pink dusted the light freckles on her cheeks (she thought of Yuda Tro-Dar and the way her laugh made Kara’s stomach feel funny and she wonders if it’s something she should worry about).

“No,” she decides eventually. “At least… I don’t think so?”

Her dad didn’t press any further, his lips only tilting in amusement before he answered, “I knew I loved your mom when I realized that I’d do anything and everything for her happiness.”

“That sounds kind of dramatic.”

“It isn’t. Not really.” Her father’s smile was soft, reminiscent. “It’s the kind of love that makes me hold the door open for you and your mom so that you’re the first in the room. The kind of love that gets me to waltz in the living room with your mom because it makes her laugh. The kind of love that makes your mom wipe the snot off your face even when you’ve sneezed into her favorite shirt more times than you have your tissue.” Kara giggled at the reminder of the first time she ever got sick. “It’s the kind of love that gets me to give you the last pizza even if it has my favorite toppings. The kind of love that makes your mom and I apologize to each other when we disagree on things.”

Her father pauses, the reminiscent twist to his lips curling into a genuine smile. “Love is messy, sure, but it isn’t as complicated as most people make it seem. Love is wanting the best for those you care about and, many times, that’s enough.”

Kara wrote her father’s words next to the faded scrap of paper taped into her diary.

 _Love is doing anything and everything to give them happiness_ , Kara’s scratchy penmanship scrawled next to her mother’s neat one.

* * *

When Kara was thirteen, she thought she’d never know love again.

Tear stains faded the shaky blocks of Kryptonese that Kal-El had written for her before he’d left her with the Danvers. _Love is family_.

And Kara was lost without hers.

* * *

When Kara was fifteen, her heart still heavy but the smell of blood and smoke a little more distant in her memories, she asked Alex if she loved her boyfriend.

“Jesus, Kar,” Alex tsked, rolling her eyes before she went back to her reading. “We’ve only been dating for a couple of months. I don’t know if I love him yet.”

Kara nodded as if that made sense (it probably did, maybe. She was still trying to understand the whole concept of love), the question on her tongue a little weightier than the last time she’d thought of it. Cautiously, curiously, she asked, “How do you know?”

Alex looked up from her book, brow quirked in a lot less annoyance than when Kara had first arrived and started asking her questions. “Know what?”

Kara shrugged, pen flicking through the pages of her notes as her brows started to crinkle. “How do you know when you’re in love with him?”

Alex paused at the question, searching Kara’s face for something (probably a sign that she was teasing her, maybe), and when all she found was furrowed brows and a hesitant little frown, she gave in. “I’ll probably know I love him when I want to be around him all the time. Like I’ll know it’s love when spending time with him every single day and hour and minute feels like getting extra cheese on your pizza for free.”

Kara beamed at the analogy, just the thought of food pulling her out of her introspective trance.

“Yeah, like that,” Alex laughed, eyes rolling fondly as she shook her head. “You’ll know it’s love if you perk up just like that.”

That night, Kara pulled out her tattered old diary (one of the few things the fire didn’t touch) and filled in a new page.

 _Love is when you can’t get enough of them_.

* * *

When Kara was sixteen, she wondered if love always hurt so much.

Alex had wandered off to be alone and Kara had followed Eliza home, her fingers fumbling to figure out whether offering a hug or not was appropriate.

She wished Jeremiah was there to tell her what to do.

The house was quiet in a way it never used to feel like, and even Kara’s sensitive hearing felt muted. Eliza waved away her offer to help with dinner and Kara felt trapped and useless in the home she’d only started to grow fond of.

With shaky hands and restless feet, Kara made her way towards the park.

The sun had almost set and the park was blessedly empty, the usual giggles and cheers replaced by the distant sounds of the sea as she took a seat on the swing. The chains groaned at the added weight and metal whined sharply in the silence as Kara pushed lightly at the grass beneath her.

It’d been less than three weeks since they’d first gotten news of Jeremiah’s death. There was little time to process it all when burial preparations and government cooperation took up most of their time.

Kara wasn’t even sure what she needed to process.

Jeremiah had taken her in (shown Kara the adoption papers just last year, even) but he still wasn’t her father. A father figure, maybe, but not her father (not yet. Almost. But not _yet_. She guesses he never will be anymore).

It felt wrong to mourn him when she wasn’t really even family.

He was Alex’s father and Eliza’s husband. Jeremiah and Eliza had known each other for years before they started dating, and he was the only father Alex ever knew. He was _their_ family.

Kara knew that full well (felt it when Alex flinched away when she tried to hold her hand).

And yet a heavy numbness had spread around her heart when she’d first heard the news. Jeremiah may not have been her father, but he was the first one to notice that Kara was extra sensitive with her senses. He was the one who gifted her soundproof headphones only a month into her stay with them. He was the one who brought her to the optometrist and gave running commentary on every pair of glasses she tried on.

He was the one who sat with her on the shores of the beach and never complained or commented on the sand she’d throw into the sea in between shaky breaths.

Jeremiah wasn’t family, but a part of Kara always felt like he could’ve been. A part of Kara thinks he almost was.

A part of Kara still loved him.

She loved him as the man who took a stranger into his home and raised her as his own. She loved him for his stupid dad jokes and genuine joy at listening to Kara ramble about some science fact she’d learned that he probably already knew about. She loved him for the time he took to teach her how to play catch (and the time he took to convince Alex to join them). She loved him for sitting through hours of choppy lessons trying to learn a language that was all but practically dead.

She loved him for being a lot like a father, even if he wasn’t hers.

The taste of salt on her lips wasn’t as surprising as Kara imagined it would be. No, what _was_ surprising was the ghostly hand that thrust out a handkerchief right into her face.

Startling back, Kara looked up to find the deepest green she’d ever seen in her life. Smooth black hair framed clear pale skin, warm green (or were they blue? Grey?) eyes pinched slightly under furrowed brows as Kara’s eyes fell to a worried little frown. Kara wondered if she’d died too, because she was pretty sure Midvale didn’t have any angels.

“Are you alright?”

Blue eyes blinked slowly at the warm timbre of the other girl’s voice, Kara’s own throat dry and lips forming uselessly around words she couldn’t get herself to say.

Was she alright?

Physically? Yes.

Mentally? Kara hasn’t been alright in weeks.

Gulping in a shaky breath, Kara managed to nod and plaster on a timid smile. Green eyes flickered over her face uncertainly before the stranger nodded, backing away with the handkerchief still in hand and shifting from one designer-clad foot to the other. Kara rubbed away the tears from her cheeks with dirty sleeves and wobbly stood from her seat.

At this height, Kara could see that the girl was around her age, maybe younger if her height and gentle eyes meant anything. The girl shot her a tentative smile as she pocketed the little cloth, staring up at Kara with the same shade of worry in her bright green orbs.

With puffy eyes and a shaky smile, she breathed, “I’m Kara Danvers.”

“Lena Luthor.” The shorter girl offered her hand.

Kara stared at it for half a minute before realizing what it was, shaking the girl’s hand as warmly as she could muster as she replied, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

“My family just moved here—or, well. My mother and I just moved here.”

Kara’s lips dropped into an ‘o’ before noticing the way the brunette shifted at her reaction. Pale shoulders rising up and pulling away just the slightest bit. The shorter girl withdrawing into herself as she took a small step back. Shaking away her surprise, Kara’s lips twitched lightly. “Well, welcome to Midvale, then.”

And Kara watched as the hunch in pale shoulders slowly eased into a giddy shrug. If Lena’s worried, timid smile was warm, then her grin was blinding—a supernova of sun she hadn’t felt since she’d left her home country. And under such warmth, Kara could do nothing but beam back.

Later that night (after Kara had spent hours out in the park with Lena, telling her all about her favorite places in Midvale and all the people who’ve come to feel safe to her. Lena never interrupted her, only speaking up to ask her more questions about the town and Alex and Eliza. She never asked her why she was crying or why she was dressed so formal. Instead, she asked if the school had a robotics club or an art club and asked Kara what she thought about abstract painting and if she knew anything about Plato), Kara pulled out her diary and tapped a stuttered beat on the page.

It’s not that Lena made her forget the heavy weight in her chest, but the company of the younger girl (younger by a whole two years, Kara had learned) eased the heavy pain into a dull sadness. Sometimes, it felt good to know that the world didn’t revolve around her sadness.

With a squeeze of her pen, Kara wrote the only thing she knew at the moment. _Love can make you sad_.

* * *

When Kara was twenty one, she learned that not every love fit together.

The breakup wasn’t as devastating as she thought it would be, but something in her heart felt a little black and blue about it all the same. It may not have been the dancing-in-the-living-room kind of romance she always imagined for herself, but a part of her still loved him. Mostly, Kara mourned the loss of another person in her life. Another name to add to the list of people who are gone gone _gone_.

“My shift’s starting in a few.” Alex’s voice was soft, as if speaking any louder would break her.

Kara knew it wouldn’t, but she appreciated the sentiment. She didn’t think she had the words (English or Kryptonian) to explain how her heart wasn’t breaking, but it was definitely _hurting_. Instead, she smiled tiredly in reply, standing from her dorm bed to wrap her sister in a parting hug (Kara felt like her sister needed it more than she did). Alex’s grip was tight, as if she could piece back together the parts that Kara had given away and lost, and Kara clung to the promise of a love she’d never lose (a love that stopped leaving her behind).

Kara pulled away first, squeezing Alex’s arms lightly as she shot her sister a reassuring smile. Her words more placating than anything else, “I’ll be fine, Alex. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“You better,” the older Danvers sniffed, finally stepping away to grab her bag and make her way to the door. “Don’t forget that Mike is dumb for not realizing how amazing you are.”

An exasperated laugh slipped past her lips as Kara huffed in reply, walking with Alex to her door and barely managing to stop herself from shaking her head. Alex always thought Mike was dumb, even before they broke up. “I get it, Alex. And I’m not blaming myself, promise.”

(But maybe she blamed the universe and fate just a smidge.)

The older Danvers nodded, satisfied with Kara’s answer as she finally opened the door to leave—and nearly knocked into the tiny body standing on the other side.

“Lena!” Kara swooped in to save the brunette from falling, practically shoving her sister aside to catch Lena in her arms (Alex’s startled “hey!” pure background noise to Kara’s hasty movements). Moving on instinct, she barely even noticed the smooth dip she had guided the younger woman through as Kara settled a warm hand around Lena’s waist with the other cradling the nape of a smooth, pale neck, a worried crinkle settling between blonde brows.

Warm blue shifted restlessly over pale skin, eyes flitting from soft black waves startled from the impact, to green eyes widening over a deep flush of red, to bright red lips softly squeaking “ _oh_.” Kara’s gaze wandered protectively over pale skin, knowing that Lena always bruised way too easily.

(She remembered the first (and last) time she ever saw a bruise on her friend. Remembered the fear and anger that had clawed its way up her throat as she cradled the arm purpled with a hand-shaped bruise. Remembered the warm tears and whispered “don’t, Kara. _Don’t_ ”s that had been muffled into her shirt. Remembered the day after Lex Luthor was charged with 32 consecutive life sentences. Remembered the night she swore to protect Lena for the rest of her life. Even if it meant fighting Lena’s own family, because as far as Kara was concerned _she_ was Lena’s family. Not Lex. And definitely not Lillian.)

“Are you okay?” Kara finally asked once she was sure the brunette wasn’t visibly hurt.

“I’m fine, Kar,” Lena waved away her concern, shifting in Kara’s arms with flushed cheeks (Kara worried, wondering if Alex hit her in the face). “But, um, could you maybe… get me out of this dip?”

Kara’s eyes widened, her gaze roaming over their position before she straightened them immediately, a sheepish laugh leaving her lips as she readjusted her glasses. “Sorry!”

“No need to apologize, darling.” Lena’s smile was soft as she squeezed Kara’s bicep in assurance (and if Kara’s heart tumbled a little at the way slender fingers gently circled her arm, well, that was just the nerves from having caught Lena at such a weird angle).

The sound of a throat clearing behind them brought them back to the present.

“Hey, Lena.” Alex’s smirk was knowing but fond. Kara doesn’t know why her sister’s smirking like that, but she’s found that Alex had been doing it a lot more around Lena.

When Kara had first introduced her to the green eyed little genius, Alex had been wary of the heiress’s intentions. She’d warned Kara of how vicious, selfish, and sharp the Luthors were—knew of the embezzlement scandal and the brother in hiding—but Lena was nothing like her family (as if the entire breakdown of the past year hadn’t proved that Lena was _nothing_ like her family).

Lena had helped (still helps) Kara every day since Jeremiah’s funeral to listen to her talk about Alex and Eliza and how she sometimes wished she were home—back in her own country. Lena had listened, and cared, and never made her feel less for her feelings. She was the one who encouraged Kara to talk things through with Alex and Eliza. She was the one who knew all about the bitter resentment she secretly had for her cousin. She was the one who never treated her like a scared little child, even when Kara felt like one. She was the one who let her in just as much as Kara opened up to her.

She was Kara’s best friend. And Alex and her friends had learned to accept that fact eventually.

(If the past few years hadn’t proved to her friends that Lena had a permanent place in Kara’s life, than the past few months of Kara commuting back and forth from National City to Metropolis just to comfort Lena during her brother’s trial let them know that there was nothing that could keep her from being by Lena’s side. Time and distance be damned.)

“Hi, Alex.” Lena stepped back to smile at the older Danvers, accepting the hug Alex offered as Kara held back a whine at losing her warmth. How could she complain when she saw two of her most favorite people in the universe getting along?

Alex stepped back from the hug with a friendly ruffle to Lena’s hair before she did the same to Kara. “Well, now I really have to go or I’ll be late.” Kara forced her sister into one last hug before the older Danvers started making her way down the hall, shouting over her shoulder, “Take care, Kar, and Lena’s in charge!”

Kara rolled her eyes in reply, shaking her head fondly as she turned to the chuckling woman beside her. “So, Chinese or Korean?”

“I already ordered from Uncle Chen’s,” Lena smirked knowingly, blood red lips curling fondly as Kara squealed in reply.

Kara twirled the brunette into a hug before remembering they were still in the hall, only letting her go to usher her into her dorm room before pulling her towards her bed. Kara climbed on and sat cross-legged as she pat the space in front of her. As Lena slid into the offered spot looking sweater-soft and cuddle-able, her movements graceful despite literally mimicking the same childish pose Kara was sitting in, she started to realize that her best friend was _here_ , on her bed, in her dorm room, hundreds of miles away from Metropolis.

And it’s not like it was the first time Lena’s ever surprised her with little visits and gifts (hell, Kara’s been doing the same for months). From the moment they met, Lena had been giving and giving and giving. Giving her time, giving her space, giving her a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, advice, food, and new notebooks and sketchpads.

Giving her quick witted commentary, her horrible science jokes, her nose wrinkled laughter, her gentle smiles, her tight hugs, her hand to hold, her trust to keep—giving her little pieces of herself that Kara treasured and protected and cherished.

But Lena was _here_ when, just the weekend before, she’d told Kara that she had a department meeting and a project pitch and initial testing for a prototype she’s been working on for more than a year and her annual project proposals to review and lots and lots and _lots_ of things that have been piling on to Lena’s plate ever since she’d been told that the chief executive position would most probably be handed down to her in a couple of years (Lena admitted that she felt like Lillian was going to mess up soon and that she’d probably be put into the interim position in less time than she thinks she’s ready for. Kara thinks her best friend is capable of everything).

Lena was always busy, but somehow, she was _here_.

Her best friend was _here_ all because Kara broke up with a man who Kara wasn’t even sure she was _in_ love with.

Five years later and Kara’s still amazed that she could call the kindest person she’s ever met her best friend.

She didn’t have to ask the brunette why she was here, knowing that Lena had always dropped everything just for her. Instead, she pulled on pale wrists and buried her nose in soft skin, the faint smell of black tea and burnt wires easing the light sting of loss in her heart.

Lena held her close, slim fingers carding gently through her hair as the brunette melted into the cuddle (years of surprise sleepovers and Monday movie nights making the movement second nature to them both).

And Kara was honest when she’d told her sister she’d (eventually) be fine. But here in her best friend’s arms, she thinks she can finally mean it.

Later that night, after Lena admitted to driving all the way to National City by herself, getting lost three times before calling up Hector to confirm that her GPS wasn’t lying to her anymore, and finding out that there was no parking near Kara’s dorm and having to walk three blocks from the paid parking near 37th street just to get there, Kara (very gently) demanded that Lena stay the night and let her drive her back to Metropolis the following afternoon (Kara will later learn that the brunette had hesitated mostly because of her offer to drive and not the offer to stay).

Lena barely put up a fight, grumbling half-heartedly as she took the offered pajamas and shuffled into the bathroom to change. Fondness curled Kara’s lips as she watched the brunette disappear into the bathroom, turning back to the empty Chinese cartons on her desk with a content little smile.

It had been a good night. They’d watched a movie and a half before Kara had finally started talking, Lena listening and holding her hand like she was sixteen all over again. Hurt and lost and feeling a lot like love was a lost cause. Feeling like a little girl playing dress up.

Kara talked and Lena listened. She listened to the tremble in Kara’s voice and the hitch in her breath. Listened to the shake in her bones and painful thud in her chest. Listened as Kara laid out all her fears and pain, pale fingers steady as they intertwined with hers.

Lena listened and Kara talked and she started feeling a little less like she was losing love all over again, the unreadably warm look in Lena’s eyes keeping her grounded and strong and hopeful.

It hurt a little less when Lena looked at her like that.

Plucking each carton and tossing them into the trash bag in her hand, Kara spotted her old diary hidden amongst the oily mess they’d made. With a quick spark of inspiration, she opened it to a familiar page, plucked a pencil out of her holder, and wrote a lesson she hoped to never forget. _Love hurts_.

Kara thinks of adding more (because she knows there’s more to love than _that_ ), but Lena chose that moment to walk out of the bathroom engulfed in Kara’s old sweater and joggers, and Kara completely forgot what she was thinking about in the first place.

* * *

Kara is twenty five when things start falling into place.

Or sucker-punching into place, if she’s aiming for emotional accuracy.

It’s movie night and Kara’s going through her third box of potstickers as her gaze stays fixed on dark green eyes and expressive hand gestures. She’s sitting on her couch listening to Lena huff and rant about her day as she’s curled in on the opposite end, the list of misogynistic businessmen and annoyingly obtrusive paparazzi seemingly never-ending.

The room was dimly lit, the only lights glowing from the long-forgotten show running on the television and a lone light Lena had left on in the kitchen for Kara’s sake. The low lighting bounced off pale skin in a way that Kara can’t seem to stop staring at, the wild waving of pale hands like starlight in the night.

They’d stopped paying attention to whatever Kara had insisted they watch almost an hour ago, having gotten sidetracked the moment they started recounting each of their days. As soon as she’d finished whining about Snapper belittling her human-interest pieces, she’d turned her big blue eyes towards the brunette and asked how she seemed to manage not rumbling with any of the annoying old businessmen that the CEO always seemed to come across.

That was when Lena started her long-winded rant about how Kara didn’t even know the half of it.

And it’s not very Kara-like of her to check out of a conversation—especially one with Lena involved—but there was just something about the way the lights flashed across pale skin that had her transfixed. Pulled into the low rumble of Lena’s silk-smooth voice, gripped by the way pale hands waved wildly with every point the brunette tried to emphasize, mesmerized by the flickering shades of green passing through wide, expressive eyes.

She felt like she was a teenager all over again, watching Lena excitedly explain her latest robot to a confused seventeen-year-old blonde.

It was the Lena that Kara had grown up with. The Lena that had to “lessen” herself over the years. The Lena that had closed herself off against the slander of the media. The Lena that she works so hard to protect and treasure and cherish.

 _Her_ Lena.

Lena, who was passionate about science. Lena, who loved to help people. Lena, who loved to use _science_ to _help people_. Lena, who once singed her hair trying to make a generator out of recycled material in their high school science lab. Lena, who ate kale and bitter gourd but didn’t like pickles. Lena, who had never tried pizza until Kara had invited her over for their first sleepover and Eliza had ordered them pizza for dinner.

Lena, who once admitted that she didn’t have a favorite animal because “ _how could you choose only one, Kara? All animals deserve to be loved, don’t they_?” Lena, who definitely still cries whenever Dumbo gets separated from his mom even if she _always_ says she isn’t crying. Lena, who secretly enjoys dumb slasher movies exactly because they’re so dumb.

Lena, who survived years under Lillian’s abuse and neglect. Lena, who’s had to carry the weight of her family’s sins. Lena, who’s taken all these burdens with stride. Lena, who still wakes up every morning and tries to be _so_ _incredibly good_. Lena, who the world does not deserve.

Lena, who helped Alex fill up her forms for medical school. Lena, who charmed the pants off of Eliza the moment they met. Lena, who has been Kara’s best friend for almost ten years. Lena, who Kara had thought was an angel when they’d first met. Lena, who’s sitting on her couch rolling her eyes at her own story. Lena, who she _knows_ has always been pretty, but something about the low lighting in her apartment on this particular Friday night as some show or another plays in the background, is looking even more gorgeous than Kara remembers last seeing her. Lena, who’s turning to her with expectant green eyes as Kara’s brain slowly seems to be click click clicking into place.

And Lena’s brows are furrowing and Kara’s heart is climbing up the hill of a rollercoaster of feelings that she’s pretty sure she’s been on since she’s met her best friend, and she feels like she’s on the brink of understanding _something_.

“Kara?” A cold hand rests steadily over hers and her heart _swoops_ , blue eyes locking on to pink lips before snapping up to warm green.

The clicks lock one more time and it’s like her heart’s taken a beating (the _thump thump thumping_ in her chest bouncing as if a boxer were using it as a speedbag). It takes her a second (or maybe a millennia), but suddenly, she _gets it_.

It’s the kindness she gets when Lena gives her gifts “just because.” It’s the consistent _good morning, sunshine_ and _sweet dreams, darling_ texts that she gets every morning and every night. It’s Lena getting Uncle Chen’s potstickers for her events every single time even though they’re wildly out of theme (and even if the event itself wasn’t meant to cater food in the first place). It’s Lena getting invited to Thanksgiving and Hanukkah and New Year’s to the point that Eliza’s stopped asking if Lena would be free and started asking Lena to “bring the good wine.”

It’s when Kara wants to spend every morning and every evening waking up to Lena making coffee in her kitchen and going to sleep to Lena lightly grumbling about being moved from the couch. It’s the tears that Kara cries every time she sees Lena in pain. It’s the way her heart breaks every time the scars of Lena’s past come biting and bleeding.

Kara is twenty five when she realizes what _it_ is.

What it’s been all this time.

Kara is twenty five when she realizes that she’s in love with her best friend.

“Kara?” A cold, soft hand cups the warmth in her cheek, Kara’s vision focusing back to worried green eyes and sharp furrowed brows. “Kar?”

“Oh.” Kara blinks. _Oh_ , Kara feels.

“You okay?” Lena asks, and Kara wonders if she’s always looked at her that way—like Kara was the only person who mattered (and she wonders if she looks at Lena that way, too).

Gulping down the sudden lump in her throat, Kara manages to nod as she shakes away the rest of her thoughts. Judging from the pounding in her chest and the lightness in her stomach, the feelings weren’t leaving anytime soon. She had time to figure them out later.

“Ye-Yeah.” She clears her throat, lips trying to remember words that weren’t _I love you_ or _my heart is yours_. “Sorry, I spaced.”

“I noticed.” The furrow between sharp brows eases just the slightest, Lena’s pinky hooking with Kara’s as the brunette pulls herself back to her edge of the couch. “Potsticker for your thoughts?”

And Kara wonders how she ever thought it could’ve been anyone else.

(She pulls out her old diary after Lena falls asleep, wonders how she was ever able to sleep before with her best friend on the other side of her bed. She flips to the last page and reads the last words she’d written.

_Love hurts._

Love hurts in the way she remembers her _ieiu_ and _ukr_. Hurts in the way she lost Jeremiah so soon after she felt like she was finding a family again. Hurts in the way Mike had left her. Hurts in the way she had lost and lost and _lost_.

But she thinks of the names and the faces that have pulled her through the heartache. Thinks of the people who have seen each shatter and crack in her soul. Focuses on one person, in particular. The one person who has seen her at her very worst. The one person who has listened through all her whispered fears and murmured nightmares.

She thinks of the person who was there just for her after Jeremiah’s death. Thinks of the person who held her every time she dreamt of the sound of buildings crumbling and her _ieiu_ ’s sobs ringing in the air. Thinks of the person who made losing Mike less painful than it probably would have been if she didn’t have Lena.

She thinks of Lena and she adds three words to the end of her sentence.

 _Love hurts. And love heals._ )

* * *

Kara is twenty five and Lena is twenty three and Kara is so, _so_ in love with her.

She doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before, but now, it’s all she can see.

Kara watches as the light streaming into her windows paint a golden mural on a canvas of soft pale skin. She’s had a total of two hours and thirteen minutes of sleep and she knows that she normally needs at least seven hours to function but Rao help her, she couldn’t get her brain to stop thinking and her heart to stop _feeling_.

How could she when she was lying in bed across the woman she loved who didn’t even know she loved her?

All night long Kara had played and replayed every moment she’s spent with Lena, trying to pinpoint the specific moment she fell in love with her best friend.

And she thinks that’s just the thing.

There _wasn’t_ a specific moment where her heart decided “oh, I think I’ll love this girl.” There were only series of moments. Puzzle pieces falling and slotting into place. Piles and miles of moments building themselves up inside her heart until all she could really think was _I love her I love her I love her_.

So. She’s in love with her best friend—her best friend who’s asleep on her bed as the sun streams through her window and paints her golden and the rest of the world is but a hush outside her apartment.

Kara’s in love with her best friend and she wonders what people _do_ when they fall in love.

Is there a step by step guide she can follow? A manual to tell her what to do next?

She thinks of all the advice she’d been given and the lessons she’d been taught, but none of them ever seemed to mention what to do when you’re in love.

She thinks of just saying it. Just blurting it all out and letting her feelings speak for her. But she also thinks that Lena deserves better than a stumbling confession of her love. (She thinks Lena deserves the absolute best—but saves the idea as her Plan Z, just in case.)

Lost in her own thoughts, she doesn’t hear the drowsy timber murmur her name until a cold slender hand stretches over the warmth of her stomach.

Kara almost jumps off her bed as soft fingers slide over the sliver of her skin exposed from her night of tossing and turning. She feels heat explode at the gentle touch despite the chill of Lena’s fingers, her skin tingling under the soft weight pressing on her side as she bites back a gasp.

“Kara?” Lena’s voice is deep, raspy in the kind of way it always is whenever the brunette is fresh from sleep, and Kara wonders how she never realized she loved her when her heart starts pounding from just the sound of it. She tilts her head to face the brunette, blue eyes meeting hazy green as the weight of a warming hand on her stomach almost distracts her from the sight in front of her.

Lena looks so sleep-soft in the morning light. The usually sharp curve to her brows eased into a gentle curl as the brunette holds back a yawn. Her normally perfectly-bunned hair fans out in soft, messy waves behind her and Kara has the sudden urge to _touch_.

And in that moment that Lena curls a bright, sleepy smile her way, Kara feels like she’s been burned by the sun and all she can think is _I love you_.

“Good morning,” Lena hums, green eyes blinking owlishly as her hand flexes over Kara’s warm skin.

 _I love you_.

Kara blushes in reply, her fingers reaching for glasses that aren’t on her face. She smiles sheepishly as Lena quietly chuckles at the movement, mumbling a soft “good morning” of her own before looking back up at the ceiling.

A startling cold hits her stomach as Kara feels Lena pulling away, followed by the rustling of her bedsheets and the soft popping of joints as the brunette seemed to be stretching herself into consciousness. Kara hears the satisfied groan right next to her and she flushes at the way her heart jolts at the sound.

 _I love you_.

“I’m gonna make us breakfast.” Kara sits up fast enough to give herself whiplash, the words tumbling out instead of the three little words that’ve lodged themselves deep in her throat.

Lena startles at the sudden movement, sharp brows furrowing as Kara tried to untangle her legs from the blanket.

“Hey,” Lena stops her frantic movements with a steady hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Kara squeaks. _I love you_ , Kara thinks. “I’m just really hungry.”

“Then maybe I should make breakfast.” Lena slides out of bed before Kara can protest, dropping an unexpected little kiss on the crown of her rumpled bedhead. “That way we can have more than just pancakes for breakfast.”

Kara splutters, half because of the tingling feeling spreading down to her face and half because _hey_! “My pancakes are great!”

“They’re the best, darling, don’t worry.” Lena reassures with a half-hearted smirk, already halfway to the kitchen as Kara’s focus stays lopsided. “I just think that any craving that’s making you fly out of bed needs more than just a pancake fix.”

And _Rao_ , Lena never questions when Kara’s being weird or awkward. She always lets Kara talk to her at her own pace. She’s always been patient and understanding with Kara’s quirks.

The sound of oil sizzling in a pan is enough to get the blonde out of bed and out of her head, putting away her emotional crisis for later (probably when she has time to talk to Alex about it). She follows the smell of garlic to the kitchen and feels her heart stop at the sight that greets her.

Lena Luthor, in all her bedheaded glory, standing in the middle of her kitchen making them breakfast.

Her faded NCU sweater hung loosely on to Lena’s small frame, the sleeves pushed up to pale elbows as the CEO moves around her kitchen with comfortable familiarity. Faded red pajama pants littered with stars covered the woman’s legs as bare feet pads softly against the cold wooden floor.

It wasn’t the first time Lena’s ever made her breakfast after sleeping over (if Kara were being honest, she barely ever cooked breakfast whenever Lena slept over), but it was the first time Kara’s ever felt an overwhelming sense of _home_ smack her right in the face. As if there was no other way for her to wake up except with her best friend by her side, greeting her with soft smiles before cooking them breakfast in Kara’s clothes.

Kara’s heart had never screamed louder.

 _I love you_.

“Is corned tuna, eggs, hotdogs, and toast enough for you, Kar?” Lena doesn’t even look behind her to check if she’s there. She probably has some weird Kara-senses in the same way that she has weird Lena-senses. They just know when the other’s near—or sometimes even when they need each other.

The question flies right over Kara’s head, food the last thing on her mind despite her earlier attempts at pushing her feelings aside. How could she think of anything other than her best friend standing in her kitchen, wearing her sweater, making her breakfast?

Green eyes turn to her with a twinkle sparkling over an impish smirk. “Or do you really want those pancakes?”

 _I want whatever you’ll give me_ , she thinks of saying. Her heart practically screaming, “I love you!”

A heavy silence fills the apartment, and it doesn’t really hit her that the words have left her mouth until Lena’s mouth clicks closed and the brunette chokes out a “You-What?”

Kara feels her heart stop. “… did I just say that out loud?”

Lena looks hesitant but consoling, her actions and words only reaffirming Kara’s deepest desires to be swallowed by a blackhole. “Do you… want me to pretend I didn’t hear it?”

“No!” Kara can feel her heart running double-time, heat spreading from her chest up to the tips of her ears. There’s a ringing in her ears and she can’t tell if it’s her blood rushing to her face or the sound of her world imploding. “No, I-I mean, you don’t _have_ to-I just-”

Kara misses the way Lena turns off the stove and steps closer, blue eyes frantically searching the room for words to fix the best friendship she’s ever had in her entire life.

Cold, calloused hands meet her overheating cheeks, the furrow between wide green eyes slicing deeply between pale skin. “Darling—Kara, _breathe_.”

Kara finally lets in a shaky breath, Lena’s steady voice reminding her that she’d stopped breathing in the first place. Pale, strong thumbs rub gentle circles over her cheeks and Kara can see green eyes swimming with worry and care and _why was she panicking so much_? This is _Lena_ she’s in love with, after all.

Lena, who’s stuck with her all these years. Lena, who put Uncle Chen’s on speed dial on her business phone just for her. Lena, who’s her best friend. Lena, who’ll always care about her—even if it might not be in the way Kara hoped.

It was _her_ Lena. And Lena always makes her feel strong and courageous. Kara can be strong and courageous for her one more time.

With a pounding in her chest and a shaky exhale, Kara takes a step back and lets her heart do the talking, “I don’t want you to pretend you didn’t hear it because I mean it. That may not have come out like I planned, but I love you. And I know I say it all the time but I know you know that this time isn’t the same time as the other times. Although I do love you as my best friend, too—what I really mean is _I’m in love with you_. I’m in love with you and I may not have said it the way I wanted to when I blurted it out earlier but I’m saying it now. I love you—as more than my best friend.

“I love you and your genius brain. I love you and your never-ending compassion and kindness. I love you and your thoughtfulness. I love you and your stupidly steadfast loyalty. I love you and your quiet strength. I love you and your weird love for kale. I love you and your workaholic tendencies. I love you and your vision to help the world. I-I just—” her words crack as the taste of salt hits her lips and she doesn’t have time to figure out what she wanted to say next because suddenly Lena is hugging her.

Lena is hugging her and Kara’s arms wrap around her reflexively and she’s waiting for the heavy sting of a gentle rejection, but all Kara feels is a damp spot on her shoulder and Lena shaking in her arms.

She hates that she made Lena cry. She hates that Lena feels responsible for her feelings. She hates that she can’t stop them.

She doesn’t know what else to say other than “I’m sorry. I’m so _sor_ —”

“Kara, you _idiot_.” And Kara doesn’t know what hurts more, Lena calling her an idiot, or the puffy redness surrounding green eyes. But Kara can’t decide which one hurts her more because Lena is cradling her cheeks and pulling her close close _close_. So close that Kara can feel shaky breaths leaving Lena’s lips. So close that she can taste the way Lena whispers, “I’m in love with you, too.”

* * *

Kara is almost twenty eight when she finally understands everything her family had taught her about love.

Love is kindness in the form of breakfast in bed and backrubs after a long day at the office and cooking dinner every single night after almost burning the kitchen down that one time.

Love is constantly supporting one another through thick and thin. Constantly believing that the other is so much stronger than people give them credit for. Constantly apologizing when they mess up and learning to be better for themselves and each other.

Love is doing anything and everything to give them happiness every single day for the rest of her life. Most times it means opening the door for them with a silly little accent, dancing in the living room to their favorite jazz song, and giving up the last pizza even if it has all her favorite toppings. Sometimes that means turning down the more dangerous stories to keep her promise of coming home. Other times it means giving up the last potsticker just to see them smiling triumphantly with half a dumpling in their mouth.

Love is family formed through blood and fire. It’s the family formed through tears and trauma. It’s the acceptance of new people cementing themselves into her life. It’s meeting green eyes in a quiet playground while she’s dressed in all black. It’s the familiar necklace her mother used to rub unconsciously when she was thinking, hanging around a smooth, pale neck.

Love is when she can’t get enough of their never ending science facts. When she can’t get enough of the smell of coffee brewing in her kitchen at five in the morning. When she can’t get enough of the sleepy smile on red lips when she has to pick them up from work at almost eleven in the evening.

Love can make her sad sometimes. Like when she sees the weight pressing on pale shoulders and can’t do anything to help but hold slender hands to her heart. Like when her favorite person is crying over things she’s sworn she’s gotten over but continues to pull her heart in two. Like when she’s woken up in the middle of the night to the sounds of soft whimpers and sudden jolts because of nightmares she’s only ever heard of. Like when she sees pain and doesn’t know how to make it better.

Love hurts when they argue about the dumbest thing because they’re both stressed and stretched too thin. It hurts when she gets the silent treatment. It hurts when she comes home to an empty apartment.

Love heals when they apologize. It heals when she hears the lock opening behind her and she turns to see a splotchy pale face and regretful green eyes. It heals when they talk things through the night, shaky breaths and silent tears blurring the rest of the world out as they lay themselves bare, listening and understanding all over again.

Love gives her strength. Strength to demand respect from her boss. Strength to push through a story she’d almost given up on. Strength to share about a culture her own cousin doesn’t remember. Strength that inspires her. Strength that keeps her going.

Love gives her courage. Courage to try new things. Courage to chase after her dreams. Courage to open up her heart. Courage to fall in love with her best friend over and over and _over_ _again_. Courage to give the only answer she has when she sees the woman she loves down on one knee in the middle of the bedroom they’d both grown up in.

Love gave her Lena.

And Lena makes her world make sense.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Normally, I'd ask for all your thoughts on this, but it would mean so much more to me if you [checked out this post on my Tumblr](https://pan-de-queer.tumblr.com/post/633752187115356160/actualbird-the-philippines-just-got-hit-by-the). My country just got hit by a supertyphoon and a lot of people were affected. All this in the middle of a horribly managed pandemic means that many people are struggling, and it would mean so much if you could check this post out and share it where you can. Big thanks!


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